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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25112329">Under New Management</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/merle_p/pseuds/merle_p'>merle_p</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Inception (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Boss/Employee Relationship, Courtship, Flirting, M/M, Negotiations, New York City, Post-Canon, Power Imbalance, Seduction, Sexual Tension</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:54:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25112329</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/merle_p/pseuds/merle_p</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hello Arthur,” Saito says dryly and carefully takes the bottle from his fingers, then opens the door wider to wave him inside.</p><p>Arthur blinks. He is tempted to reach for his totem, but that would be stupid, so he reaches for his gun and aims it at Saito’s head. Only then he lets himself feel for the totem in his pocket with the fingers of his left hand.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arthur/Saito (Inception)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Little Black Dress Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Under New Management</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/gifts">asuralucier</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There can never be enough Arthur fic! I  hope you like this one, dear asuralucier.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A few months after the Fischer job, Arthur’s building in Hudson Heights is taken over by a new management company.   </p><p>There is, strangely, no announcement to inform tenants of this development, no letter in the mail, no notice pinned to the bulletin board in the lobby. Nor are there any visible changes hinting at the new ownership – the elevator continues to be broken, in any case.</p><p>The only reason Arthur notices at all is because the business logo in the top left corner of his rent bill has changed from a nondescript clip art flower to what looks like the tiny woodcut of a fish.  </p><p>“Did you notice anything strange about the rent bill?” he asks Sheila, the single mom with the two teenagers on the fifth floor, when he helps her carry groceries up the stairs the next day. She pauses on the third-floor landing to catch her breath and looks at him from tired eyes.</p><p>“Yes,” she says and bends down to reach for her heavy canvas bags. “Those fucking bloodsuckers raised the rent again.”</p><p>Huh, Arthur thinks. He is mildly embarrassed to admit that he hadn’t noticed, which may have something to do with the fact that he could easily pay twice as much as he does without seriously hurting from the expense. But sure enough, when he digs through his filing cabinet for the previous invoice, he realizes that his rent has in fact increased by a whopping $95.50 from one month to the next.</p><p>No wonder Sheila is pissed.</p><p>He does some research into the management company, but they seem legit, or as legit as a corporate representative of hyper-capitalist gentrification can be: it’s a Boston-based real estate company, with multiple upscale apartment buildings in prime locations around Beacon Hill and Cambridge and the appropriate paper trail. The only odd detail is that their online reviews are consistently pretty solid, indicating that they are the kind of company that would fix a broken elevator or at least replace some freaking light bulbs. But perhaps, Arthur thinks, they assume that Manhattanites would be traumatized if their abhorrent living conditions improved too abruptly, and they are simply trying to ease their new tenants into it.</p><p>Three weeks later, the elevator is still stuck, the ceiling light in the second-floor hallway has started emanating an irritating humming sound, and the elderly Jewish couple in the apartment over Arthur’s has moved out.</p><p>He isn’t entirely sure when they left or where they went: he spent a week on a job in Jakarta, and when he came back with a sprained wrist and a carry-on full of clove cigarettes, they had disappeared without a trace. According to Sheila, they moved to a luxury retirement community in Florida, but he isn't sure that seems realistic for their moderate financial means.</p><p>He is a little unnerved by their departure, and not only because he liked the Akermans, who were not very quiet but polite and sometimes gave him rugalach when Akerman Jr. came to visit and brought too many for them to eat on their own.</p><p>More disconcerting, however, is the fact that apparently no one else has moved in after them. In a neighborhood where the new tenants generally start to roll out their carpets before the previous inhabitants have finished carrying out the last boxes, seeing the name plate next to the doorbell for 4B remain blank day after day is unusual enough for Arthur to take notice.</p><p> </p><p>A couple of weeks after Arthur’s return from Indonesia, his wrist is mostly back to normal, and he is running intel on a minor mob boss in Uruguay as a favor to Eames when his workflow is disrupted by a faint, but distinct noise that he hasn’t heard for quite a while: it’s the odd rattling sound that tells him when someone in Apartment 4B is washing their hands with hot water in the bathroom sink.</p><p>He freezes, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, and sure enough, the sound of the ancient water pipes is followed by the creaking of a floorboard, suggesting that the person in the apartment over his head is walking back into the living room.</p><p>Arthur shrugs to himself and turns back to his research, but he realizes quickly that his focus is off. He knows it is perfectly reasonable to assume that someone has finally moved into the apartment upstairs and is now enjoying a quiet evening in just like Arthur is, except perhaps without the crime scene photos of execution-style killings currently displayed on Arthur’s screen. But there had still been no name on the doorbell when he had come back from his run a couple of hours ago, no moving truck blocking the sidewalk in front of the building, no dusty footprints left behind by movers carrying boxes up the stairs.</p><p>So he sighs and closes his laptop and goes to look for a bottle of wine in the kitchen cabinet. If the new tenant is a New Yorker, they will probably be weirded out by Arthur’s improvised pretense – welcome-to-the-neighborhood gestures aren’t exactly a common practice around these parts – but that just means they will be more likely to give him a wide berth in the future, and Arthur is perfectly comfortable with that.</p><p>Still, he cannot help but feel a tiny bit ridiculous standing on the shabby doormat in front of the apartment on the fourth floor as he is waiting for someone to respond to his knock, holding an awfully expensive bottle of Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon in front of him like a shield.</p><p>His Glock is a familiar comforting pressure against the small of his back – he wouldn’t be who he is if he wasn’t prepared for all eventualities, be it awkward small talk or a sword to the gut. But when the door finally opens, he has to will himself not to let his jaw drop in an uncontrolled moment of surprise.</p><p>“Hello Arthur,” Saito says dryly and carefully takes the bottle from his fingers, then opens the door wider to wave him inside.</p><p>Arthur blinks. He is tempted to reach for his totem, but that would be stupid, so he reaches for his gun and aims it at Saito’s head. Only then he lets himself feel for the totem in his pocket with the fingers of his left hand.</p><p>Saito shakes his head in something like disappointment. “Please put the gun down,” he says, “or come inside. We don’t want the neighbors to call the police.”</p><p>“This is New York,” Arthur huffs, “no one’s going to call 911 over one tiny little gun,” but he does switch the safety back on and steps around Saito into the open living space, careful not to brush against him in the process.</p><p>“What is going on here?” he asks sharply, staring at Saito from narrow eyes. He is not trying to hide the fact that he’s annoyed: partly because he really doesn’t appreciate being caught by surprise, and partly because he cannot help but feel at a serious disadvantage in a plain white Muji t-shirt and low-rise jeans, while Saito is looking elegant and handsome in an extremely expensive dove grey three-piece Zegna suit.</p><p>Saito shrugs slightly and gestures at the cream-colored linen sofa positioned at a tasteful angle underneath the living room window. “I thought we could have a little chat,” he says, and waits for Arthur to sit down before he lowers himself into a matching arm chair, folding his right leg over the left. </p><p>Arthur frowns. “And you had to rent an entire apartment just to –“  He pauses, backtracks, shakes his head.</p><p>“You didn’t rent the apartment,” he says slowly, as a number of puzzle pieces are falling into place. “You bought the building.”</p><p>Saito inclines his head and gives him a pleased little smile. “You live up to your reputation,” he says. He raises the wine bottle and gives the label an appreciative look.</p><p>“Not bad,” he says and sets the wine down on the coffee table between them. “Your neighbors must love you if this is the kind of welcome present you hand out.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Arthur snaps, then wants to bite his tongue – not only because he has no doubt that Saito has the means to wipe any trace of Arthur’s existence off the face of the Earth if he so chooses, but also because as far as snarky comebacks go, it’s terribly undignified. No wonder Eames accuses him of having no imagination.</p><p>Miraculously, Saito doesn’t look offended. If anything, he seems amused. “I apologize for catching you unprepared,” he says, sounding almost honest as he gets up and leaves the room, only to return with a corkscrew and two glasses a moment later. He is back so quickly that Arthur would guess he’d laid them out beforehand if that wasn’t so preposterous a thought.</p><p>Saito sits back down, and Arthur watches his hands as he opens the bottle with careful, practiced motions, then pours the wine, not spilling a drop. Their fingers brush slightly when Saito hands him one of the glasses, and Arthur wonders if that was by mistake.</p><p>“It really should be aerating longer,” Saito says, a little regretfully, and holds the glass under his nose to smell the wine. Then he gives Arthur a private, conspiratorial, unsettling smile.</p><p>“But I believe under the circumstances we can be forgiven for rushing things just a tiny bit.”</p><p>“So what do you want?” Arthur asks. He sets the wine glass down on the coffee table, untouched, and props his elbows onto his knees.</p><p>Saito’s expression does not change. “I thought you might be looking for a job,” he says.</p><p>Arthur frowns. “I do okay.”</p><p>“An understatement if I’ve ever heard one,” Saito says smoothly. “It’s an open secret that you are the most sought-after point man in the business.”</p><p>He shrugs slightly.</p><p>“But it occurred to me that you might miss the stability of being employed by Mr. Cobb.”</p><p>When Arthur thinks back to his time with Dom, <em>stability</em> is not exactly the first thing that comes to mind, but he doesn’t think this is the moment to bring that up.</p><p>“So you are offering what?” Arthur asks suspiciously. “A permanent position?”</p><p>Saito inclines his head and doesn’t say anything else.</p><p>Arthur frowns. “Whose position exactly are you offering me?” he asks. “From what I remember, your company is famous for its low turnover. Your employees don’t quit.”</p><p>Saito coughs delicately. “Recent developments revealed some, shall we say, fissures in the company’s security protocol,” he says lightly, but Arthur knows him well enough to pick up on the icy undertone in his voice.</p><p>“Unfortunately I had to let some people go.” Saito takes a sip of his wine and nods approvingly at the taste.</p><p>“I believe I should thank you for bringing those weak spots to my attention.”</p><p>“You are welcome,” Arthur says dryly. “But why me?”</p><p>Saito looks at Arthur over the rim of his glass. “Because you are the best at what you do,” he says plainly. “Because your sense of loyalty is as impeccable as your research skills.” He smirks. “And because you know how to dress.”</p><p>Arthur pointedly looks down at himself, then up at Saito with his brows raised.</p><p>“You are forgiven for not wearing a suit to your interview,” Saito says. “Since you didn’t know you’d be attending one. Besides,” he smiles indulgently, “it’s not a matter of how expensive your clothes are. It’s a matter of how you look wearing them.”</p><p>Arthur swallows. He suddenly feels like he’s walking on very thin ice.</p><p>“Most people,” he says carefully, “most people just give me a call when they want to hire me. If you knew where I lived, I assume you also had my number.”</p><p>Saito gives him a look from half-lidded eyes. “Let’s say that I’m imaging your position to include a more comprehensive set of responsibilities,” he says. “I couldn’t help but notice that Mr. Cobb sadly did not know how to appreciate the –“ He pauses. “The full range of your skills.”</p><p>Arthur blinks, uncomprehendingly. He is stone-cold sober, so he isn’t entirely sure why he suddenly finds it increasingly difficult to think. Saito is looking at him with an expression of intent anticipation, as if he is just waiting for Arthur to catch on, and Arthur averts his eyes, glancing around the room in order to escape Saito’s gaze.</p><p>For the first time, he actively takes in his surroundings.</p><p>The apartment has very obviously been freshly renovated, though when exactly this happened, Arthur has no idea. The Akermans’ heavy dark wooden furniture has been replaced by a more minimalist, exquisitely stylish décor: the off-white couch set is accompanied by the elegant black coffee table and a soft-looking burgundy rug. There are bookshelves and potted bonsais and Japanese woodblock prints, and through the half-open door on the other side of the room, Arthur catches a glimpse of a dark blue bed throw and what looks like a framed Malevich on the wall over the head of the bed.</p><p>He doesn’t need to ask whether the painting is real, nor whether Saito knows that Malevich is one of Arthur’s favorite painters.</p><p>Because he knows with sudden clarity what exactly it is he’s looking at.  </p><p>He clears his throat and tries to ignore the wildly hammering heart in his chest.</p><p>“Aren’t you married?” he asks, and there it is again, that look on Saito’s face that says he’s just a little disappointed with Arthur’s response.</p><p>“Don’t pretend to be stupid,” Saito says reproachfully. “You have done enough research into my life to know very well that I am.”</p><p>“And?” Arthur says coolly, because two can play this game, and Arthur has a lot of practice at playing games.</p><p>Saito sighs. “And you have also done enough research to know that the union between me and my wife was first and foremost a merger between two influential families. There’s a reason the marriage has remained childless. What can I say,” he smirks. “My father was a traditional man.”</p><p>“So your marriage may be a façade,” Arthur says, his chin raised. “But what about your mistress?”</p><p>For the first time all evening, Saito lowers his glance. He reaches for his wine, taking another sip before he looks back up. It’s a steady, casual motion, but Arthur can see that his fingers are clenching the stem of the wine glass just a tiny bit too tightly.</p><p>“Like I said,” Saito responds smoothly. “There was a security breach. I had to let some people go.”</p><p>Arthur blinks, taken aback. “Did you kill her?”</p><p>Saito huffs, darkly amused. “No,” he says dryly. “I bought her a very expensive necklace and told her that I would inform her husband of her transgressions if she ever betrayed any of my secrets again.”</p><p>He sets down his glass. “Let’s just say that her husband is far less forgiving than I am.”</p><p>He tilts his head, looking honestly intrigued.</p><p>“I didn’t take you for such a passionate defender of monogamy,” he says.</p><p>Arthur shrugs. “Like you said,” he replies. “I believe in loyalty.”</p><p>“Good,” Saito says, and his eyes are dark.</p><p>There is a faint humming noise in Arthur’s ears that may or may not be the sound of the ice cracking under his feet.</p><p>He reaches for his glass and downs the wine, not pausing until the last drop is gone, and he can feel Saito’s eyes on him the whole time.</p><p>“I think you may need to work on toning down your pick-up strategies,” he says and pushes himself up from the couch. “Buying an entire building to get laid? Someone else might consider that pushy.”</p><p>He walks around the coffee table and stops right in front of Saito’s chair.</p><p>“Or desperate.”</p><p>“I thought I was clear that I am not merely propositioning you,” Saito says and sits up a little straighter in his chair, shifting his crossed right leg down so it rests next to the left.</p><p>“I am offering you a position.”</p><p>“As your mistress,” Arthur fills in and slides onto Saito’s knees, legs on either side of Saito’s thighs.</p><p>“As my companion,” Saito corrects him and sets his broad hands on Arthur’s waist, putting just the tiniest bit of pressure into the hold. “I think you’ll find that it’s a very versatile position. Suited to your varied skills.”</p><p>“I am listening,” Arthur says and rests his hands on Saito’s shoulders, letting his fingers brush carefully against the back of Saito’s neck, just between his hairline and the collar of his shirt.</p><p>“Recruiting you seemed worth the investment,” Saito continues. “Besides,” he adds, and slides his wide palms underneath Arthur’s t-shirt and up his back. “As you said, my company is known for its low turnover.” He pushes gently, and suddenly Arthur finds himself all the way in Saito’s lap, close enough for his chest to brush against the lapel of Saito’s suit jacket. Close enough for him to feel the firm pressure of Saito’s erection against the inside of his upper thigh.</p><p>“If I am hiring the right person,” Saito says quietly, directly against Arthur’s ear, “I won’t need to practice my … pick-up skills for a very long time.”</p><p>“Oh,” Arthur exhales, and feels a thin line of fire run all the way down his spine.</p><p>“Maybe we should discuss benefits then.”</p><p>“With pleasure,” Saito smiles, and claims Arthur’s mouth with his own.</p><p> </p><p>“You do need to roll back the rent increase,” Arthur says, a good number of hours later.</p><p>It’s completely dark outside by now, the bedroom illuminated only by the warm light of a small floor lamp in the corner. The blue throw is on the ground, rumpled and in need of some thorough care from a skilled and discreet dry cleaner. Arthur himself is in need of a shower, but he feels too comfortable and worn out to move anytime soon.</p><p>And Saito is perfectly happy to keep him in bed, if the warm hand splayed possessively over his hip is any indication. His fingers stay where they are even when he props his head up on his other arm to look down at Arthur in mild confusion.</p><p>“I don’t understand.”</p><p>“Your management company raised the rent by a hundred bucks,” Arthur says and trails his fingers down Saito’s shoulder.</p><p>“That’s steep, even for New York.”</p><p>“You don’t have to worry about money anymore,” Saito says, a little reproachfully, as if suggesting otherwise is an insult to his prowess, financial or otherwise.</p><p>“Yes,” Arthur says, sliding his hand towards the center of Saito’s chest, “but Sheila does.”</p><p>“Who is Sheila?” Saito asks, and Arthur very gently flicks a nipple with his fingernail before continuing his journey downward.</p><p>“You’ll meet her soon enough,” Arthur says. “My point is, you can’t raise the rent and then not even fix the elevator.”</p><p>His hand has reached the soft incline underneath Saito’s ribcage, and also is now twisted at an uncomfortable angle, so he pushes himself up to sitting and thus almost misses the faint genuine embarrassment crossing Saito’s face.</p><p>“Without doubt an inexcusable oversight that will be rectified promptly,” Saito says and lets himself sink down onto his back, giving Arthur better access to his front.</p><p>“Luckily,” he says, and his breath hitches only very slightly when Arthur’s hand inches further south, “your new position gives you full authority to instruct the director of the management company as you see fit.”</p><p>“Duly noted,” Arthur says and then stops talking so he can dedicate himself to other pursuits.</p><p>“I did know there was a reason I hired you,” Saito says, but it does clearly take him some effort to articulate the words.</p><p>Arthur pulls his mouth off of Saito’s cock and glances up at him with honest curiosity.</p><p>“Because I give good blowjobs or because I’m telling you how to run your business?”</p><p>Saito smiles and gently but firmly guides Arthur’s head back towards his lap. “Because you can do both flawlessly at the same time,” he says, and then he stops talking for the rest of the night as well.</p><p> </p><p>By the time Arthur leaves the next morning to get them coffee, the elevator works perfectly.</p>
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